


act real shallow, in too deep

by wasd



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5576887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasd/pseuds/wasd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To the surprise of exactly no one, the mirror in Dan's room is sometimes a portal to a different life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. wake up everyday it's a daydream

**Author's Note:**

> written for [Phandom Little Pop 2015](http://phandomlittlepop.tumblr.com/). many thanks to my awesome team of [constellationhowell](http://constellationhowell.tumblr.com/) (doodler) and [the-vic-to-my-kellin](http://the-vic-to-my-kellin.tumblr.com/) (beta)!

Dan was lifting his phone up for a reflexive fringe check when he noticed the battery was dead. _Ugh,_ he thought, and resorted to his mirror. Much to his surprise, what was reflecting back at him was— 

A stranger.

With his face.

As Dan liked to overthink implausible multiverse scenarios in his spare time, his immediate impulse wasn't to hurl his phone at his reflection. Instead, he paused to put his phone away (and scream internally), then peered more closely at his doppelganger, who was doing the same.

The other Dan spoke first. 'I suppose you listen to Kanye West unironically. You look the type.'

Dan didn't even think it was possible for any version of him to not like Kanye. Clearly, this asshole with his voice and body (and annoyingly similar tastes in Loubs) was the once-in-a-billion anomaly the universe burped out.

Other Dan continued: 'Wait. Where's your ring?'

Dan showed off his accessory-free hands. 'Why would I be wearing a ring?'

Other Dan dropped the cool act, gaped at Dan with genuine horror. 'Why wouldn't— No. _No._ You're _not_ married to Phil?'

 

* * *

 

According to Other Dan, he and his Phil—note the possessive pronoun—had been married for a year; exactly three years from their first meeting. Because of this, he was very judgmental of Dan's continuing incompetence at legally confirming his and Phil's domestic partnership with the UK government. Also because of this, Other Dan thought that Dan was ready to jump through the mirror and steal _his_ awesome married life, which was both hilarious and insulting.

 

* * *

 

In the beginning, Dan thought it was the typical twentysomething's fear of commitment. They were young, and Dan had built marriage up as this monstrous undertaking that he—whose opinion on just about anything changed every six hours—wasn't sure they were ready for. But his contrary mind had plenty by way of counterpoint: his and Phil's signatures side-by-side on two rental agreements for two apartments, their joint bank account, their gaming channel, their business partnerships, their mutual powers of attorney in case of a medical emergency. Dan might not be ready to commit to a TV show to watch on Wednesday nights, but clearly he was ready to commit to Phil when it counted.

Next he thought he was waiting for "The Right Moment". He'd been keeping a thorough file of his plans of how he would propose to Phil. It was carefully calibrated to land in the centre of the Venn diagram of 'romantic shit Dan doesn't find cringe', 'romantic shit Phil doesn't find cringe', and 'would be an inoffensive anecdote at the wedding banquet'. Japan was the biggest could-have-been; unfortunately Dan had been too thrilled about _motherfucking Japan_ to realise the Possibility until him and Phil were inside the taxi heading back home. Their solicitor had been very disappointed.

Finally, during a 2 a.m. Wikipedia odyssey, Dan landed on the page on inertia. He read it all the way through. When he got to the end, he scrolled up and read everything again. Then he buried his face in his hands, and swore for at least two minutes straight.

 

* * *

 

'Are you seriously trying to tell me,' Other Dan said once Dan's waffling monologue finally sputtered to a halt, 'the reason you're not married is Isaac fucking Newton? Fuck off with your "inertia" crap—that's just a pretentious way to say "procrastination".'

Dan scowled. First: who was this Radio 1-hating dick to tell anybody they were pretentious? Second: admittedly, when he shared this earth-shattering discovery with Phil, his only comment was 'did you misread the page on procrastination again?'

'You've been living together forever. Phil's clearly the best,' Other Dan said, briefly redeeming himself in Dan's eyes. 'What's wrong with you?'

'We're not in a rush,' Dan informed him.

Other Dan looked unimpressed.

'I'm working on it,' Dan said, his indignation echoing off his bedroom walls.

'Work harder,' Other Dan advised him, that smug married fuck.

Dan muttered, 'I don't see you bugging Phil about this,' but his heart wasn't in it. He knew both Phil and Martyn had this whole unspoken complex about not wanting to be the first to make their mum cry over wedding news. (Their respective partners, otoh, were a different matter. He enjoyed commiserating with Cornelia about it.)

'Whatever,' Other Dan said. 'Don't come crying to me when you're in a Japanese A&E because you had the brilliant idea to do your proposal in Tokyo's most exclusive cat café.'

Dan stared at him. 'What did you do?'

'I got the idea while we were binge-watching cat videos,' Other Dan said defensively. 'Shut up, it's not funny! Siri couldn't tell me how to translate "antihistamine"! Phil hid the travel insurance in his folders and I couldn't find it!'

But Dan was too busy collapsing to the floor, laughing his ass off, to pay attention. When he looked up, wiping tears from his eyes, his reflection was only his again.

 

* * *

 

(The thing about procrastination is: You're comfortable putting something aside for another day, because you believe you'll have time. You're secure in the knowledge that tomorrow, you'll still have that chance. You have faith in the certainty of your future.)

 

* * *

 

He wandered out to the lounge, still hiccuping. Phil looked up from his laptop, said, 'Dan, how many—'

Dan settled in his sofa crease. 'I'll personally call the dog police on you for balancing hobnobs on dog noses. Tell Ian I agree with him.'

'You can tell him yourself over lunch next week, traitor.'

Dan watched Phil's fingers tap-tapping across his keyboard and asked, 'Phil, you know I'd never forget about your allergies, right? And your lactose intolerance, and your motion sickness thing?'

'Dan,' Phil said, 'yesterday, you slapped a yoghurt Chris Stark offered me out of my hand since you knew I'd gone over my daily milk quota. I don't think that'll ever be an issue.'

'Good,' Dan said, and leaned against Phil's side, content with his life, and the secret and completely cat-free proposal.rtf in his hard drive.


	2. some people pay for thrills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a deleted scene

Phil kept a dog-a-day calendar in his room.

Dan wasn't sure where it came from, and when he asked Phil, Phil said from a box inside their junk closet, which hadn't been the question Dan was asking.

Phil didn't even use the calendar for calendaring, as he almost always forgot to flip the day over. But Dan could tell when Phil did remember: he'd find a particularly good picture of a dog propped up against his iMac, or balanced on the milk, or taped underneath the exhaust fan in their toilet, or once, memorably, wrapped in his favourite pair of boxers when Dan opened his suitcase in Cologne.

Dan wordlessly held August 15's frolicking Pomeranian up to the mirror, grinned in dizzying triumph when Other Dan pouted and was forced to admit that he'd thrown away an animal facts calendar someone had given his Phil, who then proceeded to remorselessly eat all the cereal in the house for two months.


End file.
